


Anchor

by FeatheredParrot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: It's a bit poetic so if you don't like that please don't click and be disappointed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredParrot/pseuds/FeatheredParrot
Summary: I made this before I saw Castiel die in episode 23 so hahahAA.





	Anchor

The sun was just breaking over the silhouetted forest, illuminating the land with a warm flame. Soft breezes caught the branches, which shuddered in joy as their leaves fluttered down toward the Earth. A pine flittered onto the shoe of an angel. His eyes blue as the chilly winter sky, reflecting the people he was adopted by. It was a beginning to an end. Death had managed to mantle itself onto the uprising sun. Soon, there would be no angel to watch over them. To watch over him. The Righteous Man, ever so scarred by tragedies past, only to love even more than how many bruises that had blossomed on his freckled skin over time, collected as if dust on books. His glaucous eyes covered in cloudy mists of the unreadable. He seemed so emotionless, though tides of emotion itself pulsed in the woodland surrounding them. This was his only chance to say farewell, properly. He took a heavy step, dust puffing from his inky coloured shoe. He took strides now, his coat catching in the wind. When he finally reached him, he cradled him, placing their lips together. He felt the way The Righteous Man flinched in surprise, but also the way he leaned his weight into the angel. He heard how distant conversations became silent, only the blood whispering in his ears to distract him. This was everything they wanted, needed, even. Only now it was over, he knew by the way by how light became blinding. How as they drifted from each other, the reflecting sorrow gazing back at him. The way The Righteous Man attempted to hold onto his love. The angel only placed his hand onto his love’s, ever so gently squeezing reassurance. He knew it was over as a blade ruptured his skin, the way blood slowly danced down the knife, matching the eyes of The Devil himself. He knew it was over as his grace slowly wafted its way into open air. He knew it was over, even as his head snapped back, almost unnaturally, emitting beams of sharp, white light. The underlying tone of screams, he was most certainly knew wasn't just his. He'd never know how hard his jade eyed lover fought to cover his puncture wound. He'd never know the looks of his family as his lover screamed in agony over him. Or, as he held onto him, how his wings burned into his lover. Marking him so deep it was almost fatal. He’ll never know how whenever his lover wakes in the morning or heads to bed at night, no matter how exhausted, he always prays to him. How he kept his trench coat hung on his chair, or how he wore his burns with a sense of love and nostalgia. Or how, his lover would ever so secretly spent his money on miniature, cotton ball bees and kitten collars just to place them by his headstone. How his lover talks to him for hours about adventures they've shared, what he's done so far, and asking open-ended questions he wished would be answered. But if he did know, he would adore Dean, admire him for carrying on. If only he knew how much Dean loved his angel. 


End file.
